


substitute

by Leamas



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, one (1) emotionally compromised blowjob, one (1) emotionally compromised handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9844118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leamas/pseuds/Leamas
Summary: Bill wasn't going to just leave Jim Prideaux alone, even if he didn't actually have anything to offer.





	

Outside a car pulled off the road. Its lights shined through the open window, casting shadows on the opposite wall. Bill waited until he heard the engine stop before he set down his drink. He stood only when he heard a car door slam. It was dark, but from the light hanging above the porch Bill could see Jim as he made his way to the door. He paused to survey the house, then carried on again. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Bill slipped away from the window and went to greet his guest.

Jim stood hunched forward in the doorway. For a long time they only looked at each other, Bill studying Jim’s new silhouette and Jim simply watching him.

“You made it here alright?” Bill finally asked.

“It was fine. The roads were clear.”

“I should think so, at this hour,” Bill said, stepping aside and waving Jim in.

In the light, Bill could better all the ways Jim had changed in the months since they last saw each other. Jim’s skin was pale where it hadn’t been before and he was thinner now than Bill had ever seen him, especially in his face; his eyes looked sunken. There were lines that Bill had never seen before.

“You didn’t have any trouble finding the place, did you?”

“No,” Jim said. “Your instructions were fine.”

Bill had sent his invitation using an old code they’d made back in Oxford. He didn’t know what possessed him to use it, but he supposed it was probably a kind of nostalgia, or a need to appeal to their shared history.

At the same time, he’d called Jim out to one of the family homes they’d never visited together before.

“Good,” Bill said. “Now come in. There’s no reason to stand here like this. There’s a lot to get through, so we might as well get comfortable.”

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

“What is there to get through?” Jim asked.

Bill frowned slightly.

“Everything, I suppose.”

“I’ve been over it. Unless there’s something else you want to tell me,” Jim said. Whether it was a challenge or a reference to the appalling lack of answers he’d have been given, Bill didn’t know.

“What do you want?”

“You invited me.”

“You must have had some reason to drag yourself all the way up here.”

Instead of answering, Jim reached out and wrapped his arm around Bill’s waist, pulling him closer until there was hardly any space between them. Even injured, it wasn’t hard for him to pin Bill against a wall and to trap him between it and Jim. He tried to push Jim away just to have more space to breathe, but Jim grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, and then they kissed and Bill thought only of that.

Then Jim touched his neck. Bill shivered. He opened his eyes to look and saw on Jim’s face something he hadn’t seen for the first few minutes of their reunion, either because of the shadows but also, perhaps, because the feeling hadn’t solidified. Bill watched for any hint of a change, no matter how subtle, but even as he hated Bill his gaze was steady and unwavering. Then Bill raised his head, baring his neck to Jim again. It seemed to be enough to pull Jim back to the moment.

“You wanted to see me.”

“I wanted to do my part to make sure you were seen right.”

“I’m fine,” Jim said. “I’m employed. I have my car. Have you seen it?”

Bill shook his head.

“I walked away with one-thousand pounds in reparations,” Jim went on. “That’s more than I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“It was awfully generous,” Jim carried on, ignoring Bill, and Bill agreed, maybe. But maybe it just added insult to injury. What amount of money is enough to pay for that?

He grabbed Jim’s collar and pulled him close, collapsing their lips against each other and biting. It was a relief when Jim bit back, harder. He grabbed Bill’s hip through his sweater and buried the fingers of his mangled arm into Bill’s flesh. Bill pushed Jim’s left hand up to his neck so the V of Jim’s palm rested on his throat, just under his jaw. He knew what Jim had done with his hands, and in the past, when Jim touched him tenderly, how many times had Bill marvelled at that?

A moment later Bill couldn’t breathe. It was what he invited Jim to do, but he panicked anyway.

In the same moment that Jim kissed him he remembered that Jim could easily snap his neck with one hand – that if he wanted to take his compensation in the form of Bill’s life he wouldn’t need to do it like this. Jim prioritised efficiency over sentimentality.

His cock remembered at the same time that this was not the first time Jim choked him, although those circumstances had been completely different. Bill closed his eyes and focused on the pressure in his chest, how his skin felt too warm from lack of air, how close his body was to Jim’s. Warmth was pooling at the base of his stomach; it was impossible to stand still, but he was forced to.

It was instinct that drew his hands up to Jim’s hands, and for a brief time he stopped himself from trying to pull Jim’s hand away. That resolve only lasted for so long before he found himself pulling frantically at Jim’s hand, desperate for just a lungful of air.

And then Jim let go. Bill could breathe again, and he did. He tilted his head back, baring his throat to Jim and wrapping his hands around his wrist. Then he was reaching for Jim again, taking him by the shoulders and neck and pulling him closer. Bill touched every part of Jim he could reach and Jim did the same, roughly grabbing at Bill’s arms and holding him. They bit and scratched each other for a long time, and kissed. It only ended when Jim pulled away, but it was only a brief interruption; a moment later he reached his hands down the front of Bill’s trousers and grabbed him.

It wasn’t gentle. Bill had no trouble remembering that Jim Prideaux, in his own way, was as horrible as he was.

When Jim finished Bill was shaking. He clung to Jim for support, barely able to stand upright. When he looked at Jim, Jim’s expression was steady, and as unreadable to Bill as he always had been.

Jim held his arm as Bill leaned forward, letting go only when he realised Bill was dropping to his knees. Despite his shaking, Bill was remarkably steady as he unfastened Jim’s belt and pushed the fabric out of the way. This time he didn’t bother teasing Jim; he took his cock in his mouth and enjoyed the short moment that Jim stood, tense, before Jim grabbed him by the shoulder and hair and held him there.

It was not the roughest blowjob Bill had ever given, nor was it the most intimate, but it stood out to Bill even as he kissed and swallowed as being the only time Bill ever felt like he owed it. He didn’t bother to drag it out; not long after he started Jim was leaning over him, bracing himself against the wall with his good arm and tangling his fist in Bill’s hair with the other hand. When Jim finished Bill choked, then swallowed, and when Jim let him go Bill sat back against the wall. They hadn’t even made it out of the foyer.

Jim adjusted his trousers in front of Bill, then turned away from him. He couldn’t stop watching as his long time friend paced for a few moments, before stopping. He stood very still for a moment, then turned back to look at Bill.

“What do you need?” Bill asked.

The question seemed to catch Jim off guard, because he dropped his hand to his side and looked down at Bill, who only looked at him.

“I don’t need anything,” he said, after a pause.

“Don’t be silly. Of course you do,” Bill said. “What is it? Money? I have plenty of that.”

“I’ve been compensated.”

“You deserve more than that.”

Jim looked either incredulous or angry – Bill couldn’t tell. His words were slowly when he finally spoke. “It doesn’t matter I deserve.”

“But surely you must  _want_  something. Just say what. I’ll have it arranged.”

Jim looked down at Bill. He must look like such a state, but Jim did, too. He looked worn out and worn down, and like the colour had drained from him.

There were any number of beds in the other rooms that Bill wanted to invite Jim back to. Exhaustion might drive Jim to say yes, and they could have one more night together. Bill would take it, even knowing that Jim would be gone before he woke the next morning. But Jim would say no, and so Bill didn’t ask.

“What do you want?” Bill repeated.

“Why?”

It was a terrible thing to imagine everything that question could reference. What explanation would be good enough for any of them?

Bill swallowed. “You must have some idea of the answer to that.”

He pushed himself back to his feet and stepped away from the door, although he didn’t move to open it for Jim. Jim watched him.

“I don’t think there’s anything I need from you.”

“The offer still stands,” Bill said. “It will for as long as we’re both still living, anyway.”

Another strange silence fell over them. Bill again thought about Jim’s hand on his throat, and how different things could have been.


End file.
